TW: Panic attacks and falling off a building

It was hard, to say the least, when it came to trying to peer at whatever the Inbetweener's expression could be. His swirling green eyes were locked onto Jubilee Line, narrowed behind the masquerade eye mask, and the facemask keeping the rest of his face hidden was as white and as blank as it had always been.

Jubilee Line stared back at him - you could tell, even if there was no iris or pupil to follow, just by the way the room crackled with tense, tense energy. The phantom had his hands balled into fists tightly on his lap, squeezing at the edges of his coat, while the Inbetweener simply had his hands clasped above the desk. The blinds were half-open, letting the yellow lights of the city flood the otherwise dark room.

"I've given you nearly a whole day to compose yourself, Jubilee Line," The Inbetweener spoke first, restrained anger in his voice. "Care to explain the footage?"

"With all due respect," Answered Jubilee quickly, "I'd much rather hope this entire incident can be forgotten."

Apparently, and rather obviously, that was the wrong thing to say. "You call this an 'incident'?" The superior hero hissed angrily. "You humiliated yourself, Jubilee; you made an utter fool of yourself in front of The Blood God and three unpredictable criminals!"

The phantom looked down at the table, a small scowl crossing his face. "It was unavoidable. I was tired and... I guess things got primitive."

"Primitive?" Echoed the Inbetweener. "That was not just primitive, Line. That was abnormal." He stood up from his chair to look down on Jubilee. "I think you ought to be somewhat thankful that I'm not submitting a request to have you fired on the spot, number six. Your actions reflect not only on yourself but the entire police force. Don't you understand what danger the 'cha' could be in if Theseus was able to release some of that footage? If he had been recording audio or visuals? Your 'primitive' excuse wouldn't change anything, and it doesn't now."

Jubilee flinched slightly, biting the inside of his mouth. "Theseus doesn't carry any recording devices on him aside from a burner phone," He said, trying to keep his voice steady. "Even then, the camera is broken and the mic is broken. We have nothing to worry about."

"That was information we only had double-checked a month ago," The Inbetweener shook his head. "Anything can happen within a month and I thought you'd know that, too. Why, in a month alone you went from being ranked somewhere in the four-hundreds to where you are today. You think Theseus won't grow too?"

His nails were beginning to scratch the insides of his palms as he shook his head too. "That's not how he works. Theseus doesn't think like that; he'll not have time within a month with how often we've been seeing him and his team to change up his plan. Besides, he's nowhere to hide a microphone on his costume."

"That still doesn't defeat the point!" The Inbetweener cried out in exasperation. "Line, your behaviour was- barbaric! You were beating Theseus, who was already knocked to the floor, and the Blood God had to restrain you. If it weren't for the Crow Father putting in a word for keeping you around, I don't- gods!" He sat down in his chair heavily, rubbing his temples. "I should fire you. Heroes are not supposed to be excessively violent." He glanced at him, almost pleadingly. "Surely they taught you that in the academy?"

"I'm sure they do," Jubilee replied, although it wasn't much of an answer to anyone, nor did it make much sense.

The Inbetweener stared at him once more, as if waiting for something. An apology; clarification; the truth. He didn't get any of those, so he waved his hand and the door appeared open in a colourful flash. "You can leave."

"Thank you, sir."

"You're on probation effective immediately, by the way. You cannot go out on patrol for a week unless I state otherwise."

The phantom stood up and bowed, trying to ignore how his tears dropped onto the files on the desk. "Of course. Have a good evening, Inbetweener."

There was a pause, then the number one hero nodded back. "I'll try. You too."

Jubilee Line walked out of the office, brushing some tears from his face. They were falling fast once more, which wasn't a good thing - fast tears never were. He hurried down the corridor till he reached his office, sitting opposite Kings', and swung open the door fiercely, storming inside. Once in, Wilbur felt himself drop to his knees, shaking slightly. Well, slightly was an understatement. It felt like his bones were being thrown around inside him, like a locomotive going off the tracks and down a cliff.

"Probation?" He hissed incredulously. "Probation?!"

It was fully deserved and, if anything, he was lucky it was for a week. But something deep down inside him was very unhappy. Very, very unhappy. He had promised himself on that table back then to protect the people of L'Manburg, even if it was just one life at a time. Now, not only had he tried to beat Theseus to death but he wasn't able to go on patrol. How could he protect people if no one would let him? His fingers curled in his hair as if it would somehow stop the uncontrollable shivering. His breathing was hollow and rapid, back pressed against the door. The tears landing on the floor were a brighter blue than usual - typically they were navy and he'd definitely be lying if he tried to say so now - and they looked sticky when they fell on the carpet. They sat for a long time before evaporating.

Wilbur's back was still against the office door, what felt like the only solid thing as his feet kept slipping into the floor with the whine of a speeding train's brakes. He scrabbled dumbly to keep them from falling all the way through but his head was a jungle and he could barely focus on keeping himself from shifting into a human form, let alone moving half-incorporeal legs.

There was a knock on the door behind him and he jolted, like someone had slapped him.

"Jubilee?" It was King, a note of concern in his voice. "Are you good in there?"

Wilbur sucked in a long breath, fully solidifying as he struggled to his feet. He opened the door, knowing full well his glasses were askew and his hair was tangled. "I'm fine," He lied, leaning on the doorway out of distrust for his knees.

King's mouth twisted apologetically and he tilted his head - the large hat wobbled with it. "Are you sure? Your tears are... bright."

Wilbur muttered the tiniest curse and cupped his hands to catch a few and properly look at them. They were neon blue. "That's... normal. I promise."

"Well," King looked around, hat swivelling even if his head only made the tiniest of movements, "If you're so sure you're okay, can you keep down your train station sound effects? I'm filing stuff at the moment and it's really distracting."

He flinched rather guiltily at that. "Sorry, King. I'm just... It's been a long day, y'know? I'm tired."

"It's been a long night too, from what I've heard." The phantom stiffened and King extended his open hand to him, like some kind of offering. "Wanna talk about it?"

Wilbur stared at the hand, unsure. "I... thought you didn't like me?"

King shrugged, still holding out his hand. "Honestly, I think you're pretty alright. I mean, you're a good guy. Phoenix just doesn't like Blood God and he ropes you into it."

He blinked. "Huh. Okay. Well, I can't really... I can't tell you what's going on because it's, y'know, the law and stuff."

"Ah," King lowered his hand. "Was what happened last night really so bad? I heard you were fighting Enderling and his lot - did someone get hurt?"

Wilbur shook his head, trying hard to get Jubilee Line back in control. "No, we're all fine. Nothing important happened - the Inbetweener's overreacting."

The mage scoured his greyscale face for a tell but Jubilee was keeping his face perfectly still and perfectly calm. "If you're sure, then," He told the hybrid. Then he turned and quietly entered his office on the other side. Jubilee waited till the door shut, then cupped his hands and looked at his tears again. They'd grown darker, thankfully, so he might be able to pass for normal.

He headed into his office, taking a deep breath before closing the door. It was a literal mess - not even Techno dared to enter. The blinds hadn't been opened in who knows how long - Wilbur had forgotten - and almost all space in the room was taken up by a sporadic spider web of red string that held up papers, post-it notes and photographs. Wilbur navigated his way through it seamlessly, far too experienced by now to not know where to go or where to put his foot. He ended up sitting on the front of his desk, eyes fixed on the photo dead ahead: the centrepiece of this all.

Bee squashed in at the right, loading up his sniper rifle; Enderling in the middle, tail curling behind him and his eyes narrowed under the large hood; Theseus on the left, shaking his fire-can with his blue eyes averted to the side.

Wilbur hadn't taken this photo, of course. It was more like he had sneakily taken the frame from the Blood God's video files when no one was paying too much mind to it. This was the photo that all red string stemmed from. It was supported in the air thanks to sheerly how many connections Jubilee Line's brain had made when he was still in his office in the earliest hours of the morning. Photos of the three vigilantes were nearly everywhere you looked, the majority being Theseus, and Wilbur didn't want to dare imagine what the other heroes might think of this. Not that it entirely mattered - Theseus and his friends had been the first task he'd ever been offered.

Wilbur would rather die than fail L'Manburg again.

He turned and picked up a block of post-it notes, grabbing a pen too. He started to scribble on it in his scratchy scrawl. Peeling the note from the block, he then stuck it at the base of the photo. A small smile crossed his face as he read it.

'Theseus attack prediction: tomorrow 9pm. Get un-probation-ed!!'

Maybe it was a wrong prediction. Maybe it'd be accurate. Either way, Wilbur had set Jubilee Line another goal to be distracted with and he could forget for now. He could forget all about it.

The three, handcuffed muggers Technoblade had thrown over his shoulder were trying very hard to shout verbal abuse at him through their netherite gags but he didn't pay any of them a single ounce of attention. He was in trouble enough as it was to banter with criminals again.

The Inbetweener, to say the last, was very angry.

Recently, he had been wound up tight like a spring and it seemed that Wilbur kept having to get on his bad side: first, Wilbur being unable to catch Theseus, and then Theseus triggering Wilbur's old memories. It wasn't like those bad memories were uncommon, of course. It was impossible to forget that place and Techno hadn't even been there for nearly a quarter as long as Wilbur, let alone enduring what he had. He felt the bristle hairs on the back of his neck rise but he stubbornly ignored them. He'd refuse to start thinking about that place while on the job.

It was too distracting.

Two of the criminals began wriggling in his grasp as if they had the chance of escaping his grip. He simply tightened his grasp on their ankles and kept going; they gave up after that. Techno approached a police station, kicking open the doors with one of his trotters lightly. He ducked through the doorway, fully aware of all the wide eyes on him. Despite it being typical for heroes to wander into stations with their latest catch, there seemed to be some kind of awe when it was someone from the top twenties. It seemed like that awe more than tripled when the hero happened to be the prodigy number two hero turned up.

He walked up to someone sitting behind the desk, impassively swinging the three muggers from his shoulder onto the table. "Please arrest them for attempted armed robbery on the order of The Blood God, hero rank two," He told them, dusting off his hands. "Can you get that done for me?"

"Oh- Oh! Yes, of course, sir!" They replied brightly. Techno grunted in response and flicked his wrist.

The netherite jumped from the mouth of muggers and wrapped around his forearm like a brace once more. "Good. I'm heading back out."

"Uh, goodbye, sir!"

Technoblade didn't say goodbye back, simply sweeping out of the station in the same grand fashion he had used to enter. His cloak billowed behind him as he walked down the streets briskly. His eyes flickered down every alley and on every rooftop - any movement he'd focus on until he knew what was happening; any sound he'd listen to until he was sure he had heard enough. Thus was how his typical patrols went.

But, usually, his patrols would involve a lot more fighting. He was working in the middle of the L'Manburg, in a low crime area. Most nights, he'd be so close to the Slums that he may as well call himself a frequent visitor. The change in environment was jarring, to say the least. Even Wilbur, who worked mostly in the city, would take him to more crime-infested places when they patrolled together.

It was evident, though, why he was here. The Inbetweener was punishing him by boring him out of his fucking mind.

Techno was not used to a lack of activity. He'd been working his shift for four hours now and the only people he had caught were three half-assed muggers - calling the arrest a 'fight' would be like calling a mass murderer a euthanasia expert: a discredit to humanity and possibly natural law. He was itching for a good fight but it didn't seem like he was going to find it. Until he heard something promising.

The flappy ears on his head stood alert and he froze up, hardly breathing. There it was again. A mechanical buzz. The sound of gears whirring almost silently but not silently enough. A tiny smile crossed Techno's lips. Bee.

With a commanding flick, the netherite flew from his wrist and under his feet, morphing into springlike stilts that fired him high in the sky towards the nearest rooftop. Before losing altitude, the metal obeyed another mental command and shot up from the floor far below. It formed a long pole that he easily manoeuvred to vault him up and then slide down. He landed on the rooftop and instantly surveyed the skies.

Techno had heard him. He knew he had. And there was no way Bee would've missed him either - he had made quite a show of getting up here, after all. But maybe he had imagined it. He could no longer hear the whirr of wings. Maybe it had been a bike passing nearby that he hadn't seen. Maybe he'd been that desperate for something to do.

"Come out, come out, where ever you are," he called out, with the slightest sing-song tilt to his monotone voice. "I'm sure I heard you, now..."

The piglin strained his ears, praying that he wasn't really alone. He had to have heard Bee, he was so sure he had. There's no way he had imagined it. He couldn't forget the way those wings sounded now. Not after last night - his human form still sported the black eye that the vigilante gave him in the heat of the fight. Technoblade hoped tonight would be when he returned the favour.

Then he heard something click. Something like a stand or a tripod. His netherite brace started randomly moulding itself on his arm hesitantly, ready to jump at its first command. There was a rustle and his ears perked up expectantly in that direction. He turned to look, just in time to see Bee, who'd been sheltering behind a shed of sorts, aiming his sniper gun, resting on a tripod, and pulling the trigger. The netherite obeyed instantly as he thought for a shield and a large plume dart hit the solid metal ineffectively.

"Hello, Bee," the Blood God greeted, sending a small nugget of netherite to block the gun, "What're you doing out on a night like this, then?"

"Blood God," Bee said, grip tightening hopelessly on the gun. "I thought you'd still be inside, throwing around murder accusations."

He tilted his head. "I've accused no one of anything, let alone murder."

Bee's brow furrowed, almost angrily, as he stood up. "Maybe not public. But we all know who the 'cha' is gonna frame that purger's death on."

"Frankly, Bee, I think it was the people kidnapping children," He answered, a little sharply, "And I don't like the fact you assume I'd let someone say otherwise."

The vigilante barely flinched at his tone. In fact, he only seemed to square his shoulders and steady his feet. "If the Inbetweener tells yu to fetch, you would. Like a little puppy."

"A puppy?" He echoed coolly, "Those are bold words coming from the one who lets Theseus do all the talking."

"Theseus doesn't do all the talking, he just doesn't shut up," Answered Bee, holstering the sniper. "Besides, I could say the same - you heroes wordlessly follow your superiors. I'm surprised you even have a voice."

Techno grunted and flicked his wrist, gathering the netherite he had sent out before it vanished into the holster. "Of course, I have a voice. I just hate cameras."

For the first time, Bee hesitated. "Why be a hero if you don't like the attention?"

"There are some things that only heroes can protect," He answered, his metal brace gently slipping into his hand. "And that's what I'm here to do," The Blood God finished. He lifted his hand, sending out the netherite like a cloud of black icicles.

Bee cursed loudly, ducking back behind the shed. The Blood God tutted lightly, whipping the netherite back in. If this got to be a best-case scenario, one of the metal icicles would've caught Bee's wing, leaving him without an escape method.He didn't know what the worst-case scenario would be - it would probably be getting fired - but he'd deal with it when if it came true. Bee jumped around the corner again, brick in hand, and he threw it.

The Blood God ducked easily, relieved it managed to miss his falling plait, and began to advance. He approached carefully, trying to duck and weave past Bee, who was now wildly throwing bricks at him. As he turned the corner, keeping to the far edge of the roof, he saw a pile of bricks that Bee was using as ammo. What fast thinking, part of him had time to sarcastically think.

He went low, darting across the distance he had left, and popped up, catching Bee's wrist. A small clump of netherite flew at a finger flick, covering the microphone hidden amongst his costume's fur.

"I'll let you go," he whispered lowly, "if you tell me who's kidnapping the children."

Bee's sneer was obvious, even with half of his face missing. "Like I'd tell you if I knew."

Now that caught him off-guard. "You... don't know yet?"

"I'm a hacker, not an omniscient god," Bee ripped his wrist from Techno's stunned grasp. "Ask your own people."

The kick caught him by surprise in the chest and he stumbled back. Snapping back into it, the Blood God regained his balance and let the netherite go from the mic back to the brace. He lunged for Bee, the onslaught continuing, and ducked under the fast swings that were sent his way. He would not fall for a black eye tonight - Wilbur wouldn't be sympathetic.

He threw in a punch of his own, catching what felt like a jaw, and heard Bee cry out in pain. The vigilante stumbled back and the Blood God kept going, his next punch colliding with the vigilante's nose. Bee fell over, bouncing slightly on the ground, a gloved hand flying to his nose. There was blood already seeping through the green bandana and slightly staining the glove. The Blood God didn't relent.

With one fist, he grabbed Bee's jumper and the other one flexed, making the netherite fly up, ready to trap Bee and his infamous wings. "You," he said in a monotone voice, "are under arrest."

"Not yet, I'm fucking not," Bee hissed and the next thing the hero knew was a foot colliding into his abdomen. He was winded almost instantly, the wind knocked from his lungs, but Bee hadn't finished yet. A shove followed, with a trip in quick succession.

Techno stumbled, trotters getting mixed up he struggled to regain his balance. He didn't regain his balance, since Bee leapt to his feet and gave him a clumsy shove. A shove far too clumsy; a shove with an angle. A shove that sent the hero to the side instead of backwards. There was barely any time to process it, even as it happened.

Technoblade fell off the side of the building.

He felt like he had let out a shriek of terror when the sudden weight of gravity grabbed hold of him. The wind whipped his loose plait up and his cloak billowed from underneath him. Now he knew he was screaming, as he heard the cars beneath begin to brake harshly and very distant cries of alarm far below him. It was a long drop, he knew that.

He wouldn't survive it.

The netherite was out of sight, he couldn't mould it to his will. He couldn't see Bee, or hear him, but maybe the threat of his imminent death was a little too distracting to pay attention to the subtleties of his environment. All he could do was squeeze his eyes shut tightly and wait for when his back hit the concrete. Techno wasn't like his dad - he didn't have beautiful wings to save him. He wasn't like his mother - he couldn't bend the shadows around him to become something helpful. He wasn't even like Wilbur, who could become incorporeal and wait until impact. Technoblade may be a piglin hybrid but he was practically useless without his netherite. And it wasn't there.

Memories flashed in his head of everything: the good times with Wilbur, before The Birthday; going to the Academy; every lonely night with the bottle nearby; that despicable place he would pray to never see again. All of it tried to crowd his mind at once as he plummeted. Part of him remembered Theseus falling off a building only two days ago. Unlike Theseus, though, there was no Enderling to save him.

Damn, the Inbetweener should've just fired him.

But then a hand seemed to grab him by the shirt. His eyes snapped open, letting loose a few tears when they did, and he saw Bee above him, wings whirring furiously. For a brief second, he stopped falling, held weightlessly by the vigilante. But gravity set in once more and he doubted Bee's wings were made for two.

"Hold on!" Bee shouted, despite Technoblade being so close.

He didn't hesitate to obey, though, hurriedly wrapping his arms around Bee like the short one was a lifeline. "My netherite!" He yelled, trying to spot it on the rooftop. "I need the netherite!"

Bee didn't respond immediately, struggling to turn a dial on the chest strap of his wings. The surface area expanded and the force put in with every flap grew stronger. Techno squeezed his eyes shut once more, too scared to watch in case a screw fell loose or a fuse blew. The only positive of that situation would be not having to die alone. Wilbur would never get over it.

He should not have thought of Wilbur at that moment because, after that, he could only see his twin. His twin beaming at him when they were only ten. His twin giving him a weak smile when he found him after all those years apart. His twin having to hear the news that he fell to his death, despite promising only last night to never leave him alone. Damn, that was a bad-brother move if he'd ever done one before. Techno made a mental note to apologise in the afterlife. He whispered a quiet apology then, for good measure.

The piglin tightened his grip on Bee, trying to shake Wilbur's face from his head. He wouldn't die today, and certainly not in such a lame way. Bee would save them, surely. Bee was too clever not to have a backup plan. Hopefully.

"Yes!"

Techno's eyes flew open again to realise something. They were moving upwards. They might make it out alive.

"Take that, Death," He muttered, "Not taking me today because your mother's a whore."

Bee laughed at that, the sound seeming heavy with exhilaration. "Don't move, Blood God! I wouldn't wanna drop you!"

"I wouldn't want you to drop me either," He answered, the adrenaline making him slightly too delirious, "Do you know how long it took to get this perfect hair colour?"

The vigilante laughed again and now Techno could see the roof of the building they'd been fighting upon. He could see his netherite. He swung out a hand and it moved instantly, becoming a platform that he reached up and grasped. Bee yelped at his sudden movement but his flight upwards became rapidly faster without the entire weight of a costumed piglin bearing upon him.

Techno crawled across the platform, rolling onto the safe concrete when he came to it, and lay down flat, staring at the sky. Flat, solid ground. Part of him felt the urge to kiss it and he was ashamed to admit that it was a very large part of him suggesting this.

"You saved me," he breathed, trying to process it. "I thought, for a second, that you wouldn't." He glanced at Bee, assessingly. "I thought that you might've pushed me on purpose."

"We don't kill people," Bee answered, breathing heavily.

Techno nodded dumbly. "I didn't think you did... Thank you for proving me right."

There was a moment of silence, Technoblade still letting himself relax. He hadn't died. He hadn't betrayed Wilbur. He was safe.

"I need to ask you something," Bee's voice interrupted his thoughts.

Techno looked over, still laying still. "Feel free, dude. I'm not exactly in the best emotional state to arrest you right now, if that's what you're wondering-"

"No, not that," Bee said, shaking his head. "You, uh, said something. While we were falling."

The hero frowned. "Calling Death's mother a whore?"

"No. Not that." Bee took a deep, hesitant breath. "Who's Wilbur?"

There was silence on the rooftop, the only sound being Bee's mechanical wings.

"What?" The Blood God said, gut twisting.

"'I'm sorry, Wilbur'," the vigilante replied. "You whispered that, while we were falling. Who is he?"

The Blood God sat up slowly, eyes narrowing sharply. "Forget you heard that," He threatened lowly. "I said nothing of the sort."

Bee hesitated but eventually shrugged. "Whatever you say." And then he flew away.

Technoblade watched him leave, then collapsed back down again. Next time, he was going to skip his shift.